Echoes Fading
by Demensha
Summary: Captured during a mission and left to rot she must bring herself back into a stable frame of mind, recover what she lost and discover what she deserves.
1. Chapter 1

_Drip. Drip. Drip._ Constantly the water seeped through the stone pattering onto a stalagmite that rose some three inches from the roughly hewn floor. _Drip. Drip._ The echo faded into the black space about her. She couldn't remember how long she'd been down here, stuck in this place of darkness, this prison. Some time ago she had heard the sobs of some other prisoner, far away by the reverberating wails that reached her ears – perhaps it was a few days? Or was it minutes? She couldn't tell.

She had sat cross-legged listening as the moans sent chills through the still air and then they faded out, as each single drip faded, and she had remained, listening until she was sure it had ended. She knew there were other…_things_ down here; she had heard others before, whimpering into the nothingness. Sometimes she heard the clink of chain, sometimes the hollow scrape of fingernails down the solid stone surface. Once she heard the ragged cough of a man- she was sure it had been a man for the cough was laced with vocal rasping, deep- as she remembered them to be.

_Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. _She listened again to the echoes, waiting for the tinny drum when the water would enter a metal trough that cam e from – where exactly? Her mind could not puzzle it out; she knew it must be a magic of some sort. Inside the trough the water would collect then remain just long enough for her to drink her fill and then it would disappear. Sometimes a scrap of _something_ would fall into her lap, mostly it was what she remembered as bread, rarely a chicken bone with bits of half chewed meat clinging to it would provide her a little sustenance. She had grown to ignore the never-ending gnawing sensation in her stomach; forgotten what it was like to have a full belly.

Magic. She recalled some foggy memory of colourful glows sparks and shimmers, of plants and of creatures and of other living, breathing _people_. She remembered the emerald eyes of a boy – no – a man staring at her, the flame red hair of a large family of the sweet fragrance of summer flowers; the cornflower blue of a clear sky, the lazy buzz of a bee and the twittering of sparrows.

How long had she been here? Her mind whirled as she tried to think.

The tinny drumming began and she shifted in the direction of its sound, searching with her hands for the cool metal trough. She scooped up the liquid with her hand, splashing it onto her face relishing in the refreshing comfort it brought, releasing her mind from the difficult thoughts afflicting her. The trough disappeared. Time passed. The drips continued.

She ran her hands over her face and, as she pulled them away, she was vaguely aware that she could make out their pale forms. Amazed, she turned them over and brought them closer to her face, studying their skeletal appearance. Their shape grew more apparent; she could make out the fingernails now and the contours of her knuckles. Looking down she viewed her body in what seemed an age. The pale rags that swathed her figure hung loose against her frail body.

Her gaze scanned the prison she was in. Jagged stones jutted out of three sides, their shapes silhouetted in the slowly growing light. The fourth wall as smoother, one rectangular area more so and in this area a grille was set in. It was through this grill that the light originated.

Cautiously she untangled her thin limbs and inched forward toward this ever-brightening beacon. Creeping up the smoother, her legs were shaky as she stood. Her hands gripped at the grille, pulling her up. Peering through it she saw a black wall an arms length away, by what she could gather in the pale light.

"I don't know why we're bothering, no-one's down here,"

Her heart skipped a beat at this foreign sound but her mind would not process what she heard. They were words. Words. What used words?

"Just keep looking, I have to-"

That voice was different. And was cut off by the first. An argument, her mind told her.

"It was over two years ago, they're dead, they all are,"

"I won't accept that,"

"There were only three of them left, that they knew of, when I came down here three months afterwards. There's really no point,"

There were people moving about and not far away. People moving freely could mean nothing good.


	2. Chapter 2

Their echoes were not as distant as the first speech had been. With that realisation her legs weakened and she fell hard on the bare stone floor, a cry of pain left her lips as a sharp edge bit painfully into her arm.

Blind panic stirred in her, paralysed her. Her mind reeled as she recalled something- someone being taken away by others who moved freely as these intruders did now. The screams of that someone had haunted her for many hundreds of fillings of that metal trough. That was the best measurement of time she could conjure up. Free people meant pain.

The light grew brighter, a squeal of fear issued forth as she heard footsteps approaching. Whimpering now, she held her injured arm to her and tried to back away from the grille where the light poured through. Then, the light was directly behind it, blinding her. Stopping her movement she flung her good arm over her eyes, clenching them shut in the hopes of deflecting the searing light.

The clink of metal on metal then the scraping as something moved over the stone. The steps were slow and calculated as they approached her. Her heart thundered inside her breast, her eyes ached with the visual onslaught. Her bowels loosened, soiling the already rank surface beneath her as she heard the breathing of the intruders. A wail escaped her echoing in the now bright cell.

"Shh, steady now, we mean you no harm," This was the second voice, she realised. "You're safe now,"

Still she hid her face, not daring to meet the eyes of one who would hurt her. What did it - he- say to her? Her tongue was thick with memory, crowding it and rendering it useless.

"We're going to take you to a healer, get you fixed up and cleaned," The first voice spoke now, slow and loud to get through to her. The last word was said with a hint of disgust. She stank.

A hand touched her shoulder and she flinched away, curling herself into a ball. She was aware of the hand's owner squatting down next to her. His warmth radiated across the gap to her. Then two hands pressed at her shoulders, stopping her from moving. They gripped her thin arms and hoisted her up to a standing position and steadying her.

"Blaise, move to the back, you're blinding her,"

"How can you tell its a her?" The first voice came from behind her now. The second ignored him. The hands that held her shoulders now moved to put her arms by her side and she was too weak to resist. Her arms were released but her chin was cupped gently and raised.

"Open your eyes," The second voice said softly. Her body reacted to the words her mind could not fathom. She took in the countenance of the man before her, the scars that tracked his face, the grey hair at the temples of sandy brown locks, the forget-me-no blue eyes that peered at her. Who was he?

"Can it walk?" The first voice spoke behind her. Fear rolled over her in a new wave but the searching eyes before her quelled her horror some what. These were kind eyes, she decided.

"Uss" The sound of her voice was a hoarse whisper in comparison to the rich voices of the two men. "Mus," Her mind screamed a single word at her now, a word which her tongue could barely grasp. "E...mus" she tried again, her voice still weak. "Re...mus,"

"What's it trying to say?" The first voice again. Anger swelled in her now at the interruption, this revelation that she was trying to impart to them.

"Remus," Her whisper was louder now. Her body shook with the effort. "Remus," She said again and again until the man with the kind blue eyes clasped her warmly in his arms.

"I'm here, I'm here," Then, the light faded about her and her mind was lost in a drifting sea of unconsciousness.


	3. Chapter 3

Her eyes remained closed, she knew it would make no difference anyway; there was only more darkness. Something struck her as odd while she lay on her back, the smooth warmth of cotton sheets and a feather mattress beneath her. Silence, complete silence pressed in on her. The drip was gone. Her eyes opened.

Above her was a white ceiling, around her were white curtains, white coverings, beside her was an oil lamp throwing out a dim orange glow. Her thoat was dry which she remedied by swallowing several times. Then she searched for the kind blue eyes by speaking the word she now associated with him. "Remus," She spoke the word thrice pausing between each then let out a panicked whimper, tears beginning blur her newly regained vision. "Remus," She sobbed into the silence, her cries did not even echo to keep her company. She tried a last time "Remu-u-u-usss" the word was drawn out by her sobbing. Then a curtain parted to her right and the sandy brown hair and blue eyes were beside her.

He lay a cool hand on her forehead, smoothing her hair away from her face and comforting her. He brushed her tears gently away and smiled at her as she calmed, her breathing still ragged.

"It's ok, I'm here," He hushed her. The words, which had at first made little sense now held meaning as her time in this white room lengthened; memories stirred but fluttered out of reach like a timid butterfly that can only be viewed from a distance. Her hand squirmed free of her blankets and rose slowly toward his face. He knelt beside her, placing his hand over hers as it touched his cheek. "We thought we'd lost you," He continued speaking, moving her hand back down to the soft bed, and still clasping it reassuringly in his. "You were gone so long most thought you were dead. You and Ginny, Percy, Arthur, Kingsley, Mundungus and Flitwick. How did you manage to survive in such a foul place?" He leant forward kissed her forehead lightly and moved back to speak again, his eyes brimming with tears, a sad smile lighting his face. "We did it though, we won. Voldemort's defeated," He squeezed her hand and she couldn't help but smile at his display of happiness. "You must be thirsty, I'll be back," He stood and opened a curtain, propping it there making an avenue of empty beds visible with a half-glaze door at the far end. He smiled at her, then turned and walked to the door, disappearing through it.

Before he could return, as she had a feeling he would, she had fallen into a deep sleep again, barely aware when she was woken to eat and drink and relieve herself. She drifted in and out of consciousness for two weeks before she woke, screaming.


	4. Chapter 4

Horrific images plagued her, torturous screams echoed in her mind and the constant dripping reached an ear-splitting crescendo. Before she knew it, warm arms had engulfed her and the images faded.

"Don't let them take me away," She pleaded into his chest. "Not back to the dark, please don't take me back," Her body, now a little fuller on her frame was stronger and arms gripped, vice like, to his shirt back. Then her mind burst forth a tidal wave of memories, good and bad, flooding her senses as she was re-awakened to what she once was. Her body quaked in his grip, she was unaware of being pushed down into the soft bed as the fit came upon her, her limbs spasming and froth pouring from her mouth. He had to straddle her to wipe the foam away to stop her from choking and then he held her tongue in place to stop her swallowing it. Her convulsions ceased, her breathing laboured.

He removed himself from the bed and propped her up on her pillows, pulling the bed clothes around her waist. He wiped his hand on his shirt, a look of concern etched into his scarred visage. He paced to the opposite side of the bed and poured a glass of clear water from the pitcher standing beside the oil lamp into a waiting vessel. He slipped his arm around her shoulders, supporting her and brought the glass to her lips. "Drink,"

Her eyes fluttered open as she gulped at the cool liquid, her mind still foggy and her limbs heavy. Under his caring gaze, cradled in his strong arms she felt safety, she felt she should know him. All she knew was this man had found her, had saved her from the darkness and now cared for her and she had come to know him as Remus. The term held no meaning other than the first word she had spoken, the word he responded to. Was it a name? A title perhaps?

When the water was gone, he put the glass aside and returned his gaze to her. She smiled weakly and nestled her head in his chest, inhaling his sweet scent, but what it was she could not decide, the fact she enjoyed it was enough. "Who are you?" She whispered to him after some time had passed.

"It seems you know my name," His voice was not as sure as it had been; it was strained as if he held back tears. "I am the one you call for day and night when you wake and in your sleep and I come because- because you knew me and no other who came to your bedside,"

"Remus," She tested the word on her tongue, tasting its new meaning as it left her. "You took me away from that nothingness," She fell silent, listening to the thrum of his heart beat, feeling the rise and fall of his chest. This was not the cold and mirthless dripping she had shared her prison with, this was something new. This was life. She felt him rest his chin gently on her head, heard him sniff as he commanded his emotions. He inhaled deeply, her body moving with his and, as he let out his breath in a sigh she knew his heart was aching. "The kindness in you is what keeps me calling you. Your eyes were the first I saw, your eyes that drank me in and your eyes that calmed me. I felt I knew you," Again silence as he let her speak and she paused to think. "Thank you," She slept then, her mind swimming with this new knowledge, the newly surfaced memories hidden once again under a mound of dust.


	5. Chapter 5

When next she woke she was met with a pair of curious brown eyes and a long ponytail of red hair. The scars on his face were the same as Remus' but his skin was fairer, freckles dappling his nose in a fine spray. He was younger, she decided. He was dressed in a sleeveless shirt and black trousers and sat in a chair beside her bed. "Good Afternoon," He smiled at her, only one eye brightening. The other was made of glass, replacing the one he had lost in a battle. "I'm Bill, you remember?" Her brow knitted as she tried to recall some memory. She shook her head.

"Ah, Remus said you'd lost a bit of memory. Well, I'm Bill Weasley, eldest of what was seven children but, sadly, is just...two. Me and my brother Charlie, our mother Molly and my wife Fleur," His voice was sad, heavy with new loss.

"Dragons," Her face brightened. "Charlie was something to do with dragons,"

"Yes, he worked with them in Romania but you've only ever met him once," Bill smiled at her incredulously. "What else do you remember?" Silence as she looked inside herself, delving for some memory. Minutes passed and her expression clouded, a frown tugged at her features. A whimper and then hot tears trickling down her chin.

"Remus," she choked out. "Where is he? Why are you here?"

"Shh, it's ok, Remus is sleeping, he was up with you most of the night. I'm letting him get the rest he needs," He leant forward to her looking to offer comfort. She squirmed in the bed, edging away from him, her sobs getting louder, her calls for Remus more fervent. She heard the door click shut at the far end of the room and footsteps hurrying toward her. She wailed in fear, darkness and the incessant dripping filling her mind and then he was there. Remus perched on the opposite side of the bed to Bill letting her curl into him but not letting her further her escape.

"Remus, I was only trying to-" The younger man spoke to her saviour, who cut across in his even voice.

"I know Bill, don't worry about it," As she calmed down, she chanced a look in the direction of the younger man. "Hermione," She felt Remus' attention on her now. "Hermione, he's a friend and he won't harm you," She looked up into the beautiful blue eyes and accepted the word - Hermione - as her reference, her name, she decided. She nodded and returned to the comfort of his torso, feeling, she realised, her skin on his bare flesh. In his hurry to get to her, he had ignored the usual formality of a shirt, his myriad scars now visible to her and to the young man for what seemed like the first time. "Can i leave you here for a moment, Hermione?" She tensed and gripped Remus' arm. "It's alright, I'll be very quick, i just need to get some things and then I'll be back," He leant down to speak quietly in her ear, his breath tickling at her neck. Her grip slackened and he slowly moved his arm. He stood, smiling reassuringly at her and strode away down the room.

Cautiously, she watched Bill as he sat back in his chair and observed her in return. Silence smothered the clean fragrance of the room she knew as her home. "In the darkness," She began quietly, her eyes locked to his. "I remember they were taken away one by one, some were already dead, some cried, some screamed mindless obscenities. Sometimes i envied them. Those that took them, left me alone, ignored me but always I wished and feared them taking me too," She looked down at the rumpled bed clothes. "I am sorry," The door clicked again and her heart leapt as she heard him approach.

The curtains to her left were moved away allowing her to view a pallid winter sunset. Her breath caught as she viewed the new colours, the shades of pink and pale yellow streaked with grey wisps of cloud. Then her attention moved to Remus who sat on the end of her bed, watching her. She noticed Bill had left them and she realised she had been watching the sunset for a time before she had turned to Remus. The lamp beside her bed grew brighter as the light faltered outside. Shadows darkened his eyes, a sleepy look of contentment on his face. He was slumped but appeared comfortable, one foot tucked under his opposite leg, both feet without shoes.

"Forgive me for waking you, you must be tired," She patted the space beside her. "Sleep by me, I know I will have nothing to fear then," In a sluggish manner he moved further up the bed, lying on his side and resting his head on the bottom of a pillow peeking from the mass of her supporting ones. His eyes closed and his breath deepened. A smile caressed her lips and her hand stroked his soft hair as he had done to her so many times. Before long, she too felt her eyes closing, her hand lightly resting on his head.


	6. Chapter 6

It was two months since she had been pulled from the blackness and she was recovering well, Remus had said. She was able to speak confidently now to Bill and had met his wife- that meeting had led Hermione into a second fit as a leering face swamped her vision, the blonde hair of Fleur mirrored on this contorted face - and she had spoken briefly to an elderly woman name Minerva. Aside from that she had begun to walk, at first shakily around the small curtained space with the aid of Remus and then around the room, looking out at the steadily brightening sky. She was aware the change of season from winter to spring. She had grasped, with tutelage the change of day to night, the passage of time, had begun to write in wobbly lettering, to read books. Her most favoured activity of her healing process was when the oil lamp filled the curtain space, her sanctuary, and at her side, warming her was Remus, reading aloud to her in his rich voice.

Now Remus held her steady by clasping her hand in his tensed one as he paced with her to the door. "Come outside with me," He said quietly to her, his free hand on the door knob. "I want to show you the garden," It was then that it occurred to ask where exactly she was. Remus smiled at her question, leading her down a corridor now, slowly passing various doors. "You are in Saint Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies, and for two months you have been in my private care as i requested," They walked a little way more and turned a corner. A medi-witch in white and crimson dress bustled up the corridor from one door, not acknowledging their presence, and passed over the corridor into a second room. "You have been in the Padre McInvor ward on the fifth floor and now we are going to the balcony gardens to get some fresh spring air,"

He stopped and turned to a door that looked identical to the others save for the gold plaque that in swirling letters stated its name. Pushing it open, he let in a cool wave of air, the soft fragrance of spring flowers. He led her then outside onto a wooden walkway suspended in mid air by magic no doubt that passed through, over and under masses of foliage that clung to the walls of the courtyard, blooms heavy with nectar, birds flitting hither and thither. Above the sun shone in like a great yellow carnation it hung suspended in a blue grass.

In that sweet air her mind was at ease, a veil was lifted from her memories and all was clear. She turned to him then, her eyes holding new recognition. "Remus," He smiled at her as she spoke. "I remember..." And she went to him, wrapping her strengthening arms around him pulling herself into him, her hospital robes flowing about her. After some time they resumed their walk in silence as Remus did not press her for details, did not feel the need to initiate conversation as she grasped her self being, regained her identity. They came back inside the confines of the hospital, the opposite side to which they had started and proceeded to pace the corridors. At the first corner they came to Hermione began to shake with fatigue and she leant into him then for support. Without prompting he lent down and scooped her up into his arms as he had done so many times when she exhausted herself.

"Take me to the garden again some day," She murmured. "It's so beautiful,"

"I will, I promise," He walked steadily down the corridors back to the Padre McInvor ward with her cradled to him as she slept peacefully. Laying her gently down in her freshly made bed he ensured she was comfortable. Planting a chaste kiss on her forehead he left the curtained room, leaving a gap so she could see him. He kicked his shoes of by a bed half way down the room and took the opportunity to rest. She would likely wake some time just after dark and keep him awake through most of the night. He didn't complain.


	7. Chapter 7

"Are you feeling alright, Hermione?" Charlie smiled softly at her as he took in her trembling countenance, her laboured breathing. Her eyes were twin blazes in the lamp light, her lips parted slightly. She did not reply, but gripped Remus' hand all the tighter. At this, Charlie stood, took a step forward.

"I-" She began, moving a little more toward Remus away from Charlie. He stopped. "I am not sure what- who it was that- I am not sure of my own memory, it is still-" She paused. "Patchy." Charlie sat back down, slumping in the sofa as he regarded her, knowing what it was she remembered of him. His legs, now splayed enough to display himself to her. Her eyes flickered up and down his body before she took a seat in the armchair Remus had vacated previously.

Remus sat on the other sofa, his gaze passing from Charlie to Hermione, his mind encompassing details in the silence he would not usually entertain. The soft peach of her cheek now stood clear to him, the curve of her breast. He could smell her desire the moment she had laid eyes on Charlie and he wondered, then, what it was they had shared before she was taken. He wondered out of a sheer curiosity, out of jealousy, out of hatred. And Charlie, he observed as painfully handsome, young, quite unlike himself, he with greying hair, he who had known pain.

"Earlier in the garden I recalled an emotion, my heart bursting with love for- for someone…something…I remember- I remember a feeling of pure ecstasy, of passion spent. That is why I am quaking now. That and the knowledge of what I lost when- when they took me," Her voice was low as she spoke, tears glistening now in her beautiful eyes. "I can guess what it was from the pain I felt in its arrival. I thought- prayed I would die then." She lowered her eyes from the two men, wiping the tears roughly away with her sleeves. "I lost the child of my pleasure to one who looked sickly pale, its – his eyes grey-blue. I remember that. Three men, three feelings,"

Remus tore his gaze from her sorrow and looked at the now pale Charlie. It was then that he knew what it was they had, knew it was a Weasley child she had lost there in the darkness. He felt grimly satisfied, and hated himself for it.

"Remus," Her teary eyes fixed now on him. Remus was by her side in that instant, his hand clasping hers as she tried to stand, shaky as she was. "I don't feel- take me back" The words rolled out in a whisper as she leant to him, her eyes flickering. It was then another smell invaded Remus' senses, sharpened them. Blood.

Glancing down her back Remus spotted the claret red stain that now grew drip by drip as she stood there. His breath caught. Quickly jumping to action he lifted her, taking her behind the screens and removing the gown.

"Charlie, get me a bowl of warm water and a cloth," He called as he laid Hermione on her front, gently positioning her head to the side. He heard Charlie leave the ward in search of a medi-witch or wizard who could help him. Leaning down over his charge he undid the back of her night shirt, peeling the sides gently away from the scars that now ran with fresh blood. He recalled then, when his own scars had opened from a run in with the Cruciatus curse, remembered the pain.


	8. Chapter 8

Remus had brewed a herbal tea to allow her to sleep. The previous night she had slept only briefly when her scars had opened, quite possibly because of a magic that still resided in them from – what? Had she not said _they_ had left her alone? Maybe it was in her initial capture she had suffered then. Deatheaters had not been merciful nor had they cared for life beyond their own sorry existence.

He sat now, on one of the sofas, staring blankly into the empty fire grate, remembering when he had sat among friends in what felt like another life. How many no longer lived? How many gone before their time? Behind the white curtains Hermione was lost in dreams.

"_Hermione," She turned, her curls bouncing down her back as they fell from her hands. She had been preening in the mirror in her room, attempting to make her hair look respectable as butterflies made her stomach turn._

"_Harry?" Veils of red and gold hung from a ceiling high above, a ceiling lost from view. A breeze she could not feel made them sway, fluttering in a curious dance. The floor beneath her bare feet was white marble veined with silver. The mirror was gone, and the wall it had hung on. She glimpsed dark hair moving away from her._

"_Come on, I have something to show you," The voice echoed and re-echoed in whispers around her, invading her. She obeyed. Walking forward the veils tickled at her now bare form. What had she worn before? _

_At first the mop of dark hair and a retreating back was visible, but slowly it moved further and further away from her. The veils grew thicker but all the more silky as they passed over her skin like a lover's touch. She was inflamed, her body aching, her passions burning. _

_Presently she reached the end of the veils and the marble floor and passed onto soft grass. Into pale pink light that glittered through the cherry blossom of the trees lining the invisible path. Fairies settled their small, perfect bodies in her tresses that hung past her knees now. Blossom showered down catching her like a thousand kisses, their warmth primarily human. And then the blossom was gone, replaced by web-thin leaves of hammered bronze and gold, tumbling from the trees slipping gently over her, each a hand holding its own warmth. _

_Sighs left her lips, she now barely moved in this curious place. "Come closer," Harry's voice rolled over her, commanded her and she, unable to resist went forward to a small clearing where roses towered and vines twined, forget-me-nots and white lilies moulded expertly into a bed soft as eiderdown._

_The fairies left her then and behind her he materialised from a black smoke that seeped from her back. She felt nothing but her own passions and their desire growing. A soft hand curled around her waist and travelled up her torso cupping a breast, travelling over the darker nipple. She leant back against the burning heat of him, his bare skin._

_Then she gazed up at him from the bed of flowers and felt his mouth claim hers, the hand now slipping down to her hips, parting her legs, caressing a thigh. Then another was there, his hot breath leaving him in sighs as he kissed her stomach, each the velvet of a butterfly's wing. The first moved away, the second not allowing her a moment to protest pressed his lips to hers, his tongue tracing hers. As the first man filled her, sharp pain seared inside her, her cry was lost in the mouth of the second. _

_And then it was just he, the one formed of smoke that remained. His hands gripped her hips as he thrust into her, kissed her breasts, his pace increasing. The smack of flesh filled her ears, her moans now laced with painful pleasure. She cried his name and he claimed her lips as he slammed into her time and time again. Tears filled her eyes but oh how she cried for more. And when she looked again it was not Harry who ravaged her. _

"_Tom," She breathed as he spent himself in a rush of silver-white. His dark eyes bored into hers, smothered her. She fell into their pools of ink and regained dream-awareness in a room. _

_Her passions still throbbed as she sat in a leather armchair, the ticking of a long-clock filling the darkened sitting room with low clicking. Then she was walking again, out of the room into a dimly lit corridor and up a flight of carpeted stairs. Across a landing, she passed _through_ a sleepy looking red-head and _through_ a door to a bedside. She stared at herself then, sleeping but clearly dreaming. She sat on the side of the bed and lay down, slipping back into herself. _

"Hermione?" Remus was by her side, a cool hand on her forehead. She opened her eyes, pulled from her dreams and looked quizzically at him. "You were dreaming, it's over now,"

"Where's Harry?" She enquired. "I want to see him,"


End file.
